Too Late
by Elijah Dentwood
Summary: Castiel is too late, but Heaven wants the newly demonic Dean returned to earth. Uncertain how this will affect the oncoming battles, Castiel is now faced with protecting the very thing he's sworn to kill. Story starts at the beginning of Season 4 – an AU version of the Apocalypse.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: First Supernatural fic. Reviews appreciated. Thanks.

Dirt had seeped snuggly into every gap; the arch of his back, the space between his fingers, the minute area between each eyelash. He was sick of the taste of it, the smell of it. Dean flung his arms outwards began to punch his way through the earth. His arms were first out into the air, then he forced his head through. After a few moments he was laid out beside his own grave, filthy, sore but triumphant.

The sunlight should have blinded him, but he forced himself to face it. He stared into the sun he thought he'd never have the fortune to be blinded by again and laughed.

As he laid there he felt the muscles of his back moving, the blood pumping to fill them and strengthen them. It felt like the gentle throb of a lazy hard-on. He squirmed a little against the ground until the body felt good, then stood and looked around him.

He'd been buried in a wood. Every single tree around him was fallen, as though he'd punched them all aside as he'd risen from the grave. Dean kissed his dirty knuckles, though he knew the pride was misplaced.

Dean looked up to the sky, eyes wide and pure shining white.

~O~

The pipes only banged and rattled as Dean twisted the sink tap. He kicked at the useless piece of crap and looked down at his foot blankly as he felt the distant throb of pain. Pain wasn't the same anymore.

He twisted round and spotted a pay phone in the far corner. The gas store couldn't have been abandoned that long – there was still money in the cash register, or there had been until Dean liberated it, and the place was even still clean.

Dean slid over the top of the counter and plucked the phone off it's cradle. It'd be dead. He swung it up to his ear and said 'hmph,' as the live tone sounded in his ear. Okay, he could rattle three of Sam's numbers off the top of his head, but he'd try the real one. The urgent one. He crammed in some of the stolen change from his pocket and dialed.

'Hey this is Sam, leave a message' his brother's voice monotoned.

'Sammy,' Dean said. His voice was dry, broken. Perfect. 'I just woke up and...man, where are you? Sam, please. I'm gonna try and find you, just stay put okay?'

Dean shoved the phone back into the cradle and went back to the counter. He slid onto the top and used a cloth he'd found to scrub at his face again. It wasn't great, but it was better than nothing. He decided to get out of his clothes and try to dust them down – he was going to need to go into a town soon. Dean stripped to his boxers and beat his shirt and pants against the counter-top. Once the dust had stopped flying he used the cloth to scrub at his arms and legs.

As he wiped at his chest he realized there was some mark on his upper arm. He made to scrub at it before realizing it was more than that. Someone had iburned/i him, someone had imprinted their goddamn hand right on his arm. Dean pulled his pants and shirt back on angrily and headed for the door.

His hand had just curled around the handle when the ground began to shake. He released it and looked around himself sharply, eyes flashing to white. A noise was beginning to sink through the air. It wasn't moving closer, it was just filling his head. It was high pitched, desperately painful. Dean gritted his teeth and ducked down against the closest wall.

~O~

The woman on the desk in the library didn't look twice at him. That was fortunate, because the long walk from the gas station into town had done nothing to cool him down. He wanted to know how he'd come to be here, and just who the hell had left their hand printed on his arm as though he was their bitch.

Dean sat down at one of the computer bays and took a moment to figure out how to use the library's system. It didn't take long before he was typing Sam's personal details into the cell provider's site and the GPS popped up. A flashing red dot hovered over a map of the world before honing in on Sam's location. He was on a street just a few blocks away. Probably a motel.

He shut down the browser and left the computer bay. He couldn't wait to surprise Sam. Sam who by now probably never expected to see his face again. Pretty quickly it'd turn into a fight of course, when little brother realized he wasn't the same as before. Dean pictured bowling into Sam, pinning him to the ground with ease. Sam would figure out what the hell was going on, and then Dean would leave him alone.

~O~

The motel was sleazy – Sam clearly hadn't come into money whilst Dean had been burning in the pit. The big flowery wall paper in the hall was peeling away, and the suspicious stains weren't just reserved for the bedrooms. The whole place smelled like mold and sex.

Room 207. Dean banged his fist against the door a couple of times.

Dean listened for footsteps, but they were drowned out by the enthusiastic noises of the woman across the hall. She sounded like a porn track, like she'd been taking lessons from late night TV. Some soulless whore, probably.

After a moment the door to Sam's room swung open. Some chick in her underwear – sex hair teased upwards, lipstick smudged. Nice work Sammy. Dean did a second take and saw through it; Ruby. Her demonic features shifted beneath the meat suit. Dean nodded at her, and saw her giving him the same once over.

'Sam home?' he said brightly.

'No, he's...just come in.' she grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room.

'What are you doing here?' she asked him.

'Visiting my little brother. I hear he's shacked up with a demon,' Dean grinned.

'Idiot. Why aren't you in hell?' Ruby was all but circling him.

Dean held his hands up, 'I've got no idea, okay? I just woke up. Dug myself out and here I am.'

'Dug...' Ruby repeated. Narrowing her eyes at him. She crossed the room and pulled on some jeans and a top, 'look, Sam's going to be back soon. If he figures out you're...well, he's a little unpredictable right now. I'll tie you up and-'

She caught Dean's pleased expression and rolled her eyes, 'we'll make it look like I ran you through the tests. You know, so you're human.'

Dean ran a hand across the back of his neck. He probably couldn't trust Ruby, but what was she going to do really? He moved towards her and caught a fistful of her hair, 'All right, but just so you know...this...' Dean gestured towards himself 'doesn't make us fucking friends, okay?'

There was a chair by the desk under the TV. Dean made himself comfortable and held his hands behind him.

~O~

Dean shook his head against the throbbing pain in his temple. Ruby hadn't held back. He wasn't bleeding, but he could already feel bruises blossoming out from every part of his body she'd been able to reach. There was salt spilled here and there on the ground, and her knife beside him on the floor. She'd emptied a bottle of holy water down the sink and refilled some of it with tap water, throwing it over him. She'd left him tied up and flicked on the TV. He could hear some woman droning on about her experience as an alcoholic. It was making him want a beer.

She moved from the bed with a start when the lock bolt moved in the door. Sam pushed the door open, carrying a couple of paper bags, a newspaper peeking out of one and fresh vegetables in the other. Same old Sam. Dean shifted in his chair, fed up of this now. He'd expected, no he'd _wanted_ a fight. He was different now, but he hadn't forgotten the years in hell as a human. He remembered the exact moment he'd given up hoping Sam would save him. Anger rose in his chest, hot and untempered. He breathed out sharply.

'Sam, it's Dean – he just came to the door – I tested him, I did everything...he's fine. He's just fine Sam,' Ruby was talking really quickly, apparently hoping to get it all in before his brother wielded a knife at him.

'Dean?' Sam repeated, disbelieving. He dropped the paper bags he was holding and rushed to the chair. 'Why is he still tied up?' Sam asked, tugging at the rope Ruby had used.

'The shock...it doesn't matter. Let me,' Ruby grabbed the knife from Dean's side and sliced open the ropes, a little too close to his skin for comfort. Dean held back a grunt of displeasure and got to his feet. Before he could even move Sam had shoved into him, arms wrapping around him tightly. He smelled like Ruby and girls shampoo. Dean forced himself to hug back, letting his fingers dig deep into Sam's shoulders in an effort to stall some of the anger.

'How did you...I tried Dean, I did everything I could to...' Sam's words tumbled out too fast and Dean noted the tears in his eyes as he stepped back.

'Did you make some kind of deal?' Dean asked, 'is that why I'm back?' He was already angry at Sam, he was going to be even angrier if the idiot had made some kind of bargain with his soul. It was pointless, it was done, Sam should have just left him there.

'No, I tried...' Sam looked sad, disappointed even 'no one would deal with me. I tried everything I could to get you out but I couldn't. So you don't know why you're out?'

'Not a goddamn clue,' Dean snapped impatiently. Ruby shot him a look from Sam's side, telling him to calm down. 'Sorry...it's been a long day I guess,' he offered.

'It's fine. You're tired,' Sam was nodding frantically, 'take some of my clothes, I'll go and get some food...and see if I can't get some books. We can figure this out.'

Dean nodded, though the thought of putting on Sam's clothes made him want to laugh. He'd look like a kid wearing his dad's shirt.

Sam pulled him into a tight hug again and then was off to the door. He pulled Ruby with him. Dean heard Sam ask her why she'd told Dean who she was. She shrugged and kissed Sam on the cheek, easing him out into the hall.

Dean slumped back into the chair, glad he'd gone. He wanted to kill him.


	2. Chapter 2

Bobby shook his head when Sam had come in to rifle through the books, not for the first time even this week.

'What you lookin' for this time?' Bobby asked him, watching Sam pick at the piles of books stacked around the edges of the room. Sam had no more idea how to get Dean out of hell than he did. It didn't seem likely the answer was going to turn up in some random book tonight. Truth be told, most of him felt like the boy should be getting on with his life.

Sam looked up and give him a thin-lipped grin. It wasn't an answer, but it saved them both the strain of an old conversation. Sam wasn't going to just give up. Bobby stayed at his desk even as Sam left, letting the comfort of the fire on his back fill his thoughts. Sometimes he felt like he couldn't save Sam any more than he could Dean.

~O~

Ruby tossed Dean a motel-rough hand towel to dry his face. It smelled faintly of harsh bleach and the metal rail she'd pulled it from.

'So are you going to tell me how you got out? We both know there's no way you dragged yourself out of there,' Ruby commented, watching him dry off the 'holy water' she'd thrown at him.

'Still no clue Ruby. Must have been another demon I guess. That's why I thought I'd come here, get Sam to figure things out. What are you doing here anyway?'

Ruby maybe didn't believe him, but Dean didn't care. She didn't need to. He didn't give a fuck what she thought about anything.

'Sam wanted my help after what happened to you. He's learning to use his powers, drinking our blood to get stronger. He wants to go after Lilith, and I want him to.'

Dean threw the towel back in her direction. Something about Sam drinking blood struck him as funny. 'So you're helping him to kill other demons, and to drink their blood? And he's just doing it? Sam?' Dean laughed, imaging his brother having to use a glass, like the classiest vampire on the block.

'And he's drinking some of mine,' she clarified, 'maybe yours if you...'

'Nope, I'll be gone before Sam knows what I am,' Dean cut in.

'Why? He's accepted me. Maybe he'll-'

'He'll think he failed. Even if he doesn't kill me, it'll eat at him. He probably won't want to fight Lilith anymore,' Dean shrugged.

'Or he'll want revenge that bit more,' Ruby countered.

'Why do you want him to kill her anyway? Why him?'

'Oh the usual reasons. That and it'll kick off the Apocalypse,' she said with a perfect smile.

The Apocalypse. Well, that sure as shit wasn't his problem anymore. When he'd been a human he would have felt obliged to do something, probably kill Ruby and save Sam. As it was, humanity wasn't his problem anymore and Sam...well Sam was something else. He felt possessive of him still, but not in the same way. He didn't feel gut wrenching fear for his brother anymore, he didn't feel...well, things were just less complicated.

'With you back, he might not want to fight anymore,' she pointed out. Dean didn't really see how that was his problem either.

Dean got up and moved over to the bed, sitting on the edge beside Ruby, 'I haven't been out of the pit a day and you're trying to drag me into something. Give it a rest, Ruby.' He looked at her properly. Her lipstick was still smudged in the right corner of her mouth. She'd tried to smooth down her hair, but it was still poking up at the back and the buttons of her shirt weren't done up right.

'You mean you haven't been back a day and you're already screwing up my plans,' she told him, smirking.

Dean leaned towards her and raised his hand. She didn't flinch as he touched her. He ran his thumb along her cheek and over her lips. He traced her jaw line back up and grabbed a fist full of her hair, 'let's be clear, sweetheart. I don't give a fuck about your plans,' he jerked her towards him by the handful of hair, pressing his lips high on her forehead softly.

'I don't care what you've been feeding Sam, whose dick you're sucking to get higher up the demon career ladder...I don't even give a fuck that you're gonna end the world, are we straight?' She didn't say anything. Another sharp tug on her hair pulled her head back so that he could see her face. She was almost pouting.

Ruby swiped lightly at his arm and Dean let go of her hair, a few strands floating loose of his hand. She shifted up and half onto his lap, pressing her mouth against his. He felt his lungs give a sharp tug for breath. She smelled like Sam.

~O~

There was a diner still open – the lights were dimmed, but Sam reckoned they'd serve him a pie. He parked the impala outside and tossed the books into the passenger side.

The door gave a tingle of bells as he pushed it open. There was a waitress stood a few tables across, her back turned to him.

'Hey,' Sam called 'looks like you're closing, I just wondered if I could get-' that was when he noted the feet poking out from behind the counter, the debris further across the room. There was even a guy slumped onto a table in one of the darker corners of the room. Sam tensed, annoyed at himself for not paying more attention.

'Are you okay?' he called across at the waitress. She turned and Sam saw that her eyes were burned out; melted clean out of her face. He swallowed hard and caught the scent of sulfur. Demons. Demons had done this, or...

'Sam Winchester,' the waitress said. Her voice was high and screechy.

'Sam fucking Winchester,' she began to laugh, but it was too high and punctuated with sobs. Sam lifted up his hand and concentrated. Almost straight away the smoke began to pump out of her mouth, thick and moving up towards the ceiling. The waitresses' body convulsed with the movement.

The smoke was gone and the body was still. Sam took a few minutes to check the other bodies – all missing their eyes, all burned out apparently the same way.

He flicked off the diner lights as he left and closed the door behind him.

~O~

Ruby's head was resting against his bare chest, the rest of her limbs dangled around his. Maybe this was something she did with Sam, but he sure as hell didn't want to cuddle with her. Dean hooked his leg over hers and made to flip her off of him and onto the other side of the bed.

Before he could move, everything around them began to shake, shifting Ruby about on top of him. She slid to the other side of the bed of her own accord and pulled her legs up, eyes filling up with black. Something was coming. At the very edge of his hearing Dean noticed the noise again – higher than anything else he'd ever heard. It rang around the room, shattering the glasses over by the sink.

The pair of them clambered out of the bed as shards of the mirror above them shattered and poured down on them. The noise was getting sharper, louder, filling his head. Dean covered his ears with his hands, eyes now white and wide. It hurt too much to move, to do anything.

As quickly as it had started it was over, moving away as though whatever it was had passed over.

'Shit,' Ruby swore, her voice smaller and more scared than he'd ever heard it before. There were a few slices along her arms from the mirror, along with the dark teeth marks he'd left along her collar bone she looked like she'd been through it.

'You know what that was?' he asked her, pulling his eyes away from her body.

'Angels,' she breathed. 'Dean, we have to leave.'

Dean shot a look at her and began pulling his pants back on. 'Angels? What? We're not going anywhere – explain what that was.'

The lock moved on the door. Sam. Dean tugged his shirt back over his head and sat down on the bed, carefully avoiding the shards of mirror.

Sam closed the door behind him and froze, taking in the scene. Ruby was still naked, the room was a mess and there was glass everywhere.

'That the food?' Dean asked, nodding towards Sam's bag. Sam didn't answer. Dean got up and took the bag out of his brother's hand, 'just some tits, Sam,' he said with a nod back towards Ruby.

There was some sort of staring communication going on between Ruby and Sam. Dean thought she was probably getting dressed. He dug through the backpack, coming up with nothing but books. No pie then. He probably didn't even need to eat anymore, but he definitely wanted to.

'This mess all happened whilst you were gone. It sounded like something was coming and then left,' Dean explained, 'Ruby thinks it's angels,' he gave a snort of derision.

'Angels,' Sam said thoughtfully.

'I'm getting out of here,' Ruby announced, 'I'm not sticking around where angels are. If you've got any sense, you both will too.'

'Let's just say for a minute you're right, and that was an angel,' Dean voiced 'what's it going to do, flap it's wings? Announce a virgin birth?'

Sam stared at him whilst he spoke. 'We've come across stranger,' he said with a shrug.

'You believe in angels?'

Sam ran a hand across the back of his neck, apparently not wanting to get into it. 'Something happened whilst I was gone too.' Sam explained about the diner and the demons with their eyes burned out.

Ruby looked even more tense and began packing things up, stuffing them into a backpack like the one Sam had.

'I'm getting out of here for a while, maybe I'll see you in a few days, Sam?' she was talking to Sam quite pointedly. Sam made a noise that didn't sound much like agreement.

Ruby left, shooting a look across at Dean that he didn't understand.

Dean carried on pulling the books out of Sam's bag and scanned over the titles. He caught Sam staring at him and looked up.

'What?' he asked.

Sam shook his head, eyebrows raised. If he wanted to talk about it he could just spit it out, Dean wasn't about to play the tease-it-out-of-Sam game. In fact, if Sam wasn't going to just ignore it like a good brother then they may as well just have it out.

'I fucked Ruby whilst you were gone,' Dean said plainly, 'does that help you to focus?'

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. They'd probably shared girls before, but not deliberately or knowingly. Sam apparently had a problem with that.

'Dean...right before you got here,' Sam started, rubbing his hand across his forehead.

'Yeah, I figured. She smelled like you.' Dean started digging through the books again. There was probably something in one of them about angels, hopefully something that that said it was total bullshit.

'Dean,' Sam didn't sound angry or upset, more confused than anything.

'Yeah?' Dean said, without looking him.

Sam didn't reply. He shook his head and took some of the books from Dean, helping to look through them. Dean was different.


	3. Chapter 3

'You said Bobby knows her?' It was a question Dean had already answered three times, and this time he just huffed out air in response.

The hall smelled like the rot of the dumpster outside. The walls had been painted once, probably white. Now they were a dirty smear of hand prints, stains and scuff marks. Sam followed his brother up the stair well, carefully maneuvering his feet around trash.

Sam wished he'd stayed in the impala, not that it had been an option. Dean had practically wrenched his arm out of the socket getting into the car in the first place, he had preferred to get out of it himself.

By the time they reached the third floor the stink had dissipated – windows were flung wide open, making the place ilook/i worse, but at least Sam could breathe again.

Dean tapped out a rhythm at the nearest door with his knuckles. It was opened almost immediately by a dark haired woman; jeans tight, Iron Maiden t-shirt riding just above her naval.

'You must be Dean,' she said, looking him over appraisingly.

'Hey. Yeah, and this is my brother...Sam.' Sam gave a quick smile and moved forward as she waved them through the doorway.

Her rooms were dark, but clean. They smelled like recently burned incense and cigarette smoke. She led them through to a small wooden table and indicated them to sit.

'So have you heard anything?' Dean asked.

'Nope. Spirits don't seem to know anything about what got you out, or if they do they're keeping quiet. You look pretty good for someone who just got dragged out of hell y'know.'

Sam rolled his eyes and looked around the room. There was a cabinet jammed with old records; he eyed a few of the titles, more his brother's taste than his own.

'So you know Bobby?' Sam asked before the flirting could continue.

'Yes she knows Bobby, Sam. How many more times?' Dean snapped.

The woman reached her hand out and patted Sam's, 'I'm Pamela, I've helped Bobby out on a few cases before.' She looked over to Dean as though she wanted to say something reproachful but thought better of it. This whole thing was ridiculous – Dean was treating him as though he was ten, keeping him in the dark, shutting him out. He didn't even want to talk about hell.

'What's next?' Dean asked impatiently.

'Let me get you two a beer. I thought we'd try a séance, see if I can contact whatever brought you back,' she started to get up.

'You're gonna summon it here?' Sam asked.

'No, just try and see it. Speak with it maybe,' she patted Sam's hand again and left the room.

'You're acting like a kid,' Dean muttered across the table.

'You're acting like a dick,' Sam countered, leaning back in his chair as Pamela came back with two open beers. The two brothers took a bottle and drank in silence whilst she moved about, putting down a large dark cloth covered with symbols. She lit candles and placed them in formation across the table.

'Okay, we're ready. Join hands.' Sam stared at his brother for a moment before offering his hand across the table.

'I need to touch something the monster touched,' Pamela eyed Dean for a minute then slid her hand beneath the table and along his thigh.

'Not that I'm complaining,' Dean said 'but he didn't touch me there.' He shifted in his chair and pulled off his outer shirt. Sam kept hold of Pamela's hand, wondering where in hell this was going. Dean pulled up the left sleeve of his t-shirt, exposing a brand that looked like a hand print.

'What the...' Sam breathed out.

Pamela put her hand over the brand; the hand was larger than her own, though not by a great deal. She closed her eyes and began to chant 'I invoke, conjure, and command you. Appear unto me before this circle.'

Sam shifted in his seat but held tight to Pamela's hand and Dean's. Dean's hand felt cool in comparison to his own clammy palm. She repeated her chant many times, eyes closed tightly.

'Castiel? No, sorry I don't scare easy Castiel.'

'Castiel?' Dean said.

'That's it's name, it's-' across the room a TV flicked onto static, pieces of some show breaking through the white noise. 'It's warning me to turn back.'

'Maybe we should-' Sam started.

'No,' Dean said, 'we finish. She's close...'

Pamela gripped at their hands tighter 'I conjure and command you, show me your face,' she chanted, the instruction becoming more insistent each time. Across the room the white noise from the TV grew louder and the table began to shake beneath their joined hands.

'Show me your face now!' The candles around the table flared upwards and they all dropped hands. Pamela was screaming. Sam scrambled out of his chair to grab her. White fire was pouring from her eyes. Dean stood from the table, knocking his chair back.

The noise from the TV ebbed away, leaving the picture black. Dean stared down at Pamela, now laid in Sam's arms on the floor. The fire was gone, leaving only empty eye-sockets.

'Dean, get an ambulance,' Sam shouted up at him.

Pamela was making small sobbing noises. Dean stood still, transfixed by her empty eye sockets. Whatever had pulled him out of hell had burned out her eyes.

'My eyes,' Pamela moaned, maybe echoing his own thoughts. Dean knelt down to look closer at her face. There was nothing left of the eyes at all, not even a wet trail where they'd melted. Pamela stopped moaning, her face pointed towards Dean's; if she had been able to see, he'd swear she was staring at him.

'You...you're...' she began to scream again. Somehow she knew. Dean pressed his hand over her mouth. Sam tugged at his arm, shouting at him to stop, demanding to know what he was doing. He was never going to get anywhere with Sam pulling at him. Dean swung out his fist, hitting Sam square in the face. He fell backwards with a heavy thump.

'Demon,' Pamela gasped, trying to struggle backwards.

Dean wrapped his hands around her throat, pressing his thumbs tightly into her windpipe. This was going to take too long. He lifted his hands up to her jaw line and twisted sharp and hard until he heard her spine crack.

It wouldn't be long before Sam came to. Dean moved over to his brother and patted at his pockets. He felt Ruby's blade inside the inside of Sam's jacket and removed it. He might need it for what he was going to do now.

~O~

Dean swung the impala around and turned AC/DC up to full volume. He drove until he saw somewhere that felt right – a catholic church with stone steps and boarded up windows. What better place to catch an angel? Of course, this Castiel creature wasn't really going to be an angel. It was going to be just like every other crawling piece of shit he'd ganked.

Dean parked up on a side street and bundled up everything he'd need from the trunk. It was night now, but he still picked the back to break in.

Whoever had boarded the place up hadn't made much of an effort. The thin wood gave easily and the windows were easy to open. Dean climbed in and realized that this was a more homely part of the church. Probably where the Priest did his paperwork.

The room smelled like old books and incense, an echo of Pamela's rooms. Dean propped himself on the desk and looked around; bookshelves, more bookshelves, a wardrobe. If he was really going to commit to this he'd put on one of those dresses they wore, but he wasn't feeling the dress up tonight.

He picked up the bundle again and went into the main part of the church. The interior was dark and much larger than he'd anticipated.

'Dean Winchester,' he said loudly, listening to his voice echo against the roof of the church. Sweet.

Guns, silver, iron, Ruby's knife – this stuff could lay out pretty much every monster he'd ever come across. Dean moved behind the table and lifted a knife. He slid it across his inner arm and let the blood drip into a bowl. The mixture in the bowl smoked faintly, smelling a lot like burning hair.

Dean waited.

~O~

Sam slid his cell down onto his shoulder so that he could pay for his coffee. He smiled his thanks at the waitress and took his drink.

'Okay. Thanks, I appreciate your time,' Sam said into the phone, walking out of the store and back to the parked car. Ruby was in the passenger seat.

'Pamela's out of the ICU. I still can't get hold of Dean,' he told her as he climbed in, tossing the cell into the glove box.

'He's been through a lot, Sam. Hell changes people, and Dean...well people don't just walk out of hell,' Ruby pointed out gently.

Sam ran his hands through his hair, 'I know. I just...I just wish I knew where he was. That's all.' He dropped his hands to his lap, twisting one over the other.

'Let's just go back to the motel,' Ruby urged, putting a hand on his knee. He was edgy, he needed the blood.

Sam nodded and pulled the car away.


	4. Chapter 4

For ten minutes now he'd been getting familiar with the Saints, shadows flicking across their faces from the light of the candles he'd lit. Their photos were pasted across the front of the church like baseballs cards, just missing the vital stats. They all looked so _pious_, perfectly and well...saintly. Their real lives were probably blood-baths, Dean was sure you had to do something pretty big to get the attention of the Catholic Church. He'd put away enough evil in his time, but he didn't see any priests lining up to stick his mug shot on their wall.

Dean was sat in the pews, about three rows back. This was probably what counted as prime repenting real-estate on a Sunday. His feet were kicked up on the row in front. These places definitely hadn't been made for comfort. Maybe it was a sin to be comfortable in God's presence.

He let out a huff of impatient air, tipping his head backwards to stare up at the darkness of the ceiling.

Outside he could hear the noise of wind whipping around the building, rain beginning to beat a pattern against the plywood that blocked off the stained-glass windows. Dull, normal, Earthly- Dean swung around as something hit the marbled floor loudly. The main doors, and one of the pillars that supported the upper level had blasted across the floor. He picked up the shot gun that he'd tucked under his seat and climbed over the two pews in front of him.

He stood in the aisle, other weapons within arms reach.

'C'mon,' Dean muttered to himself.

A shadow threw across the floor ahead. Dean lifted his gun and watched. At a gentle pace a man rounded the corner, walking straight down the aisle towards him. He was wearing a suit and beige trench coat. He looked suburban normal, like he might offer to do Dean's taxes.

As the guy drew closer the candles around the church began to snuff out. Dean lifted his shot-gun and fired rock salt. The shots hit their target, right in the chest. He kept walking. Dean tossed the gun to one side and grabbed for the knife he'd taken from Sam.

'Who are you?' he asked, lifting the knife as the other man drew closer.

'I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,' the voice was low and rough. Dean began to laugh but it stifled in his chest as though the wind had been knocked out of him. His insides clenched with fear, something deep in his mind, something protective whispered irun/i. Dean ignored it and plunged his knife into the stranger's chest.

The man looked down at his chest, unconcerned, pulled the blade out and dropped it to the floor.

'We need need to talk, Dean,' he said.

'Who are you?' Dean asked.

That fear was still threading through his body like a poison, clouding his thinking. He hadn't even reached for the knife – a weapon that could certainly end his own existence. This wasn't a man in front of him at all; it was something else, something that made his insides tremble and his confidence slip.

'I am Castiel, Angel of the Lord.' Ruby had been right. An angel, an honest-to-fucking-God angel.

'You don't look much like an angel,' Dean pointed out, sounding far braver than he felt.

'This is a vessel, my real form is...different,' the self-proclaimed angel explained.

'So you're an angel who saves demons from hell?' Dean asked sceptically, 'sorry, not buying it. If shit like you existed, well...then why would I be this way?' His eyes became white.

'This is your problem, Dean. You have no faith.' The candles flared and the shadow of large wings spread back across the church, so wide that the shadow warped at the curve of the walls. Dean barely had time to take in the sight of them before they were gone.

'Why did you save me from Hell?' Dean asked. He couldn't think of a single reason that an angel would want to pull a demon's ass out of hell. Maybe he wanted to torture him, but that didn't seem very angel-like. He clenched and un-clenched his fists, wishing he could rip the feathers right from the back of the winged liar in front of him. Years, idecades/i he'd suffered in Hell until his final torment, until his soul finally broke.

'Don't you think you deserved to be saved?' The tone was so innocent, so sweet. Dean lunged forward, forgetting to grab a weapon. He gripped at Castiel's face, mildly surprised to find his palms pressed against stubble. He dug his fingertips into flesh.

'Why did you do it?' Dean demanded.

'Because God commanded it...because we have work for you.'

The bloody knuckle pressed against his mouth didn't hurt much. The skin had split unevenly, opened against Castiel's jaw and cheek bones. Looking back, the angel hadn't tried hard to stop him. He'd gripped the front of Dean's shirt, maybe holding him back a little, but Dean was pretty sure he'd mostly just watched and let a demon punch him in his handsome face.

He was alone in the church now, dripping his demon blood on ground that was supposed to be Holy but didn't seem in any rush to swallow him up. The angel had left after a while, with blood stained lips and bruised cheeks. The thought of that eased the tight grip riding high in Dean's chest.

He had understood things in Hell eventually. He had been tortured, and then had given in. Souls arrived, he took them apart, tormented them over and over until there was nothing left and then they would move on to somewhere else. He'd been good at it, he'd been more than good, he'd been fucking amazing. He'd been so consumed by it that he'd lost himself, and found a new home in Hell.

Last he remembered he was guts-deep in a new soul. Daniel, drug-dealer, murderer, sexual deviant. Enough material there to last an eternity. Dean could still hear his screams now – the fresh screams of the newly arrived, still tinged with hope that there was some way out. He'd pay, he'd beg, he'd suck your dick, he'd give you more drugs than you could dream of.._.please man, just...I have a mom, I have a kid..._. Then Dean had woken up in his grave, apparently because God wanted him up and at 'em.

It didn't make sense, but he'd just watched the one creature who could probably explain things walk away. It was for the best, surely nothing right could come from hanging about with an angel, even his gut had been trying to tell him so. He wished he had at least killed him...Castiel. Dean thought of the calm look in the angel's blue eyes as he had watched Dean punch him. He decided to leave the church and forget all about it.


	5. Chapter 5

Every angled bone of his face was darkened with a bruise. They were healed with a swift brush of his fingertips. Castiel stood behind an empty office block, three buildings down from the church in which he had left Dean.

He had allowed Dean to pummel at the vessel with his fists, to scratch and tear at him. He was certain that at one point the demon had even pulled his hair. Hell's most recently qualified torturer, beating at him with mere flesh. Eventually Dean had slackened, and there were hazel eyes meeting his gaze.

There was little light in the alley, enough to see that his tie was crooked, and there were little splashes of blood on it.

Castiel mused that he could have healed Dean too before he'd left. He had after all been cleaning up after Dean since he'd arrived back on Earth. Pamela – he hadn't been able to fix her eyes, but he'd mended her snapped spine and breathed enough life back into her for the human medics to handle the rest. Then there had been Sam, who was unconscious when Castiel arrived. He'd taken away some of their memories, just the ones about Dean hurting them, and Dean being a demon in Pamela's case.

He felt regret for the loss of Pamela's eyes – he had tried to warn her, but she had been determined and talented in seeking him out. Few humans could stand to see him in his true form. If he had been able to reach Dean sooner it might not have happened, but it had taken time to find the appropriate vessel.

Castiel had been watching Dean for so long, unable to intervene. It was no recent discovery that he and his brother would be the embodiment of the Apocalypse, the chosen vessels of Michael and Lucifer. Castiel had been watching the Earth since it's creation, keeping silent vigil over the humans that roamed it's surface. Actions had been long in motion before Michael instructed him – instructed that he should watch Dean from the moment of his creation to the moment of his destruction and descent to hell. When that happened, an order would be issued, and Castiel was to act only once the order was received.

With his wings figuratively bound Castiel had watched the most profound and most mundane moments of Dean's life; child-arms clutching at a baby, the stink of smoke filling the air. The shared jokes of brothers, the teasing and the eye-rolling. The secret thrill of his first beer. Dad smiling, Dad shouting, the sting of the back of his hand. Sam's blood, Sam's cold, pale body in his arms. Love, pain, violence, sex, suffering, beauty and fear. So much of it beyond Castiel's understanding and yet every moment etched into his memory, a fixed moment in time that formed part of Dean.

The order came after the hell hound and ripped Dean apart, after so much torment, after Alastair had pulled that final agreement from his lips, and then, most terribly, after Dean's soul had been warped. Castiel had waited and watched, had felt cold resignation when the order was finally given. This was his task, this was Heaven's will. That didn't stop him wishing it had been different.

Castiel waited for two hours. On his walk back to the church it was raining gently, dampening down his hair and sticking his shirt to his chest. He tried to arrange his trench coat to cover all of him, but by the time he had worked it out he was inside the entrance of the church.

'How did you know I was still here?' this time a shotgun was pointed at him before he'd even reached the aisle.

'I just did,' Castiel said plainly.

Dean was giving him a look that appeared to be suspicion. He appeared to be calmer now, even the shotgun had been lowered to his side.

'I can't think of a single reason to trust you. Seems to be we should be on opposite sides of this game,' Dean said, turning his back on Castiel and walking back down to the end of the church where his weapons were. Castiel followed him.

'It isn't a game, Dean. God has plans for you. You must help us to stop the Apocalypse, to prevent Lucifer from roaming the Earth and destroying it.'

Dean reached for a half full bottle of Jack nestled between two pistols and twisted at the cap. 'You know I'm a demon, right? That guy before, he's gone. I'm done saving the world, it's not my job anymore.'

'If you don't stop Sam from drinking demon blood, he's going to help Lucifer out of his cage,' Castiel explained calmly, 'if you don't stop him, the angels will...'

'So you want me to stop my brother drinking blood so your buddies won't murder him?' Dean asked. It all sounded like the plot of some cheap horror movie to him. 'Why should I? Sammy likes demon blood, what harm can it do?'

'Because God wills it-' Castiel started.

'God?! Why should I help Him? What's he ever done for me?' Dean interrupted, almost losing it again. Some deity had ignored his ass whilst it roasted in Hell, and now wanted his help.

'Look, Dean. If Lucifer manages to get out of his cage he needs a vessel,' the angel's voice was still so patient and calm, like a teacher or something. If Dean hadn't been so angry himself he'd be desperate to get a rise out of him. 'That vessel is Sam. Lucifer can't just use any vessel, not for long anyway, it needs to be the chosen vessel – Sam.'

Dean took a large swig of the Jack and kept his mouth shut.

'If Sam carries on drinking the demon blood he'll give in, and he'll be strong. He'll say yes. He'll win, he'll take over everything.'

Dean wiped his mouth and laughed, 'Sam ruling the world,' he announced to the empty church.

'Not Sam...Lucifer, inside of Sam,' Castiel pointed out, his voice a little more sharp this time. Dean's mouth twisted into a grin.

'And how'd you know I won't love that?' Dean pointed the bottle at Castiel, moving closer to the angel, 'how do you know I won't just feed Sam a little of my own blood, now you've told me all of this.'

Before Dean could move again Castiel reached out and pressed two fingers against Dean's forehead. He immediately dropped – Castiel caught him (though not the bottle of Jack, which smashed unheeded against the floor) and laid him on the front pew.

'I don't,' he said, settling beside the sleeping man.


	6. Chapter 6

Someone was tapping at his forehead. Dean swiped a hand in front of his face, 'leave m' 'lone,' he mumbled, opening his eyes blearily. No one was touching him, at least not any more.

Sitting up it was clear that things were...different. The ground underneath him was marble and the grand house itself unfamiliar. Dean pulled his arms in front of him; they were bare, but covered in a layer of dirt and dried blood. There were strange symbols carved into his arms, old-looking wounds that had scarred.

He stood and paid attention to his surroundings; a huge marbled room with a chandelier that was pulling away from the ceiling, sparkling crystal brushing the filthy ground. At the far end of the room there was a scaffold. He made towards it, brushing a hand over his hair as he walked and finding it a little longer than usual.

On top of the scaffolding there was a metal box, far taller than he was, symbols carved into it that were similar to the ones on his arms. Dean climbed up onto the scaffolding and leaned close to it, peering in through one of the gaps in the metal that the symbols made.

There was a man on the floor inside the box, naked and kneeling. Dean was about to move away again when the man turned his head, bright blue eyes seeking him out and fixing his gaze.

'It's you, but not NOW you,' Castiel's voice had been rough before, now it sounded torn. The hallmark of damaged vocal chords from screaming too long, Dean mused, watching the angel stand and move towards him. He wasn't covered in the symbols that marked his own skin, but there was a pattern of scars and new wounds that covered most of his body.

'Who did that?' Dean asked, no shred of concern in his voice. Something that could harm an angel could definitely harm him too.

Castiel had drawn closer until he was almost pressed against the inside of the box, 'you did. Or, you will,' he said, trying to get a better look outside of his cage. 'This is what happens if he wins.' Just as there had been no concern in Dean's voice, there was no entreaty in Castiel's.

'So, Lucifer is letting me keep you, like a pet?' he asked, noting with vague curiosity that Castiel's face was unmarked.

Castiel shook his head a little, 'no, he told you to destroy me, but you didn't.'

'Why not?' Dean asked, scratching at his dirt encrusted arm.

'You said something about destroying a piece of heaven. I don't think it's important,' The angel had turned away from the gap, staring at the inside of a cage he couldn't possibly find anything new in.

'You don't, huh?' Dean gave a huff of amusement. After that comment Dean thought he knew why he'd kept Castiel around. He hadn't managed to break him.

'Mr Winchester.' A voice at the other end of the room. Weird accent, British maybe? Dean turned around and just looked. He still had no idea what he was doing here. Castiel had said that this was what happened if Lucifer won. Dean supposed it was something to do with him.

'Mr Winchester, Mr Crowley wishes to speak with you, now if you-' the guy hadn't even finished when Dean's view of him was blocked by someone else. A shorter someone else, dressed neatly with shining shoes.

'How many bloody times, Archie? Not Dean. You don't announce me to _Dean_,' the new man snapped at the guy behind him. He started walking across the room, his hands pressed together in front of him. 'Sorry Dean, he hasn't got the hang of this announcing thing yet. I know you don't like the habit.'

Dean shrugged. Apparently he didn't like people announcing their arrival? So what. The man who had been introduced as Mr Crowley was still walking towards him. The other guy had vanished out of sight.

Crowley slid his gaze between Dean and the metal cage, 'not interrupting I hope,' he said with a smirk. Dean noticed that his eyes were bright red.

'He was giving his ideas on why I'm keeping him here,' Dean supplied. Crowley raised his dark eyebrows in mild surprise.

'You know me, nothing to say on that front.' Crowley held up his hands in a gesture of innocence.

Dean was getting impatient. 'What do you want, Crowley?' he snapped. This whole thing was putting him in a bad mood. He didn't know how he was here or why he was here.

'I hear you destroyed another group yesterday,' the shorter man said, without a trace of his former humor. Dean just watched, not understanding or sure he wanted to. 'There's only one group left now, rumor has it,' Crowley seemed to be expecting an answer.

'Sure,' Dean said, stepping off the scaffolding. He rubbed at his arm, wanting to ask the other demon what the marks cut into his arms were for. He couldn't see if it was just him – Crowley was wearing a dark suit that covered all but his hands and face.

'Dean, the others are getting antsy. You're taking away their wardrobe, and their clothes are getting tatty if you know what I mean.' Dean didn't. He shrugged again.

'They're killing all of the humans. Soon there'll be no one left to possess,' Castiel's voice provided from inside the cage.

Crowley looked towards the box then slowly back at Dean, 'feeling brave today is he?'

'So what do you want me to do?' Dean asked gruffly. If Lucifer was around then he must be calling the shots. If Crowley wanted something, why didn't he just go to him?

'Dean we've talked about this before. If the humans go, we will too. He'll start once the humans are gone – are you going to lead the hunt for us too?'

'What's it got to do with you anyway?' Dean asked, turning away from Crowley as though he knew anywhere he could go in this place. He didn't even know where this place was.

'Do you think he'll leave you alone, is that it? Maybe Sam will beg in there for you, and he'll grant a pardon?' Crowley was laughing at him, that annoying smirk always on his mouth.

'I think you better get out,' Dean said coldly, turning to stare at the other demon. In the time it took to blink Crowley was gone.

Dean turned back and looked up at the box. 'Dean.' Castiel seemed to know he was looking his way. 'Before you go, _please_...' He stared up at the box; Castiel's shape shifted inside. Dean didn't know what he wanted. There was silence for a moment, then that voice again 'I know you have the right weapon. Somewhere in the house, a sword that can kill an angel. Please. If you give me the sword I'll even do it myself.' Dean stared at the box a moment longer then walked away.

He walked out of the door, out to a city he didn't recognize.

The air was thick with the smell of sulfur and fire. In most directions he looked smoke was rising to the sky in the distance. in the distance smoke was rising to the sky.

Dean didn't walk far before he came across others. It was two demons, shoving at each other until they noticed him close by. They immediately stopped and turned to face him, lifting their chins but dropping their gaze. _Awaiting orders_, Dean thought.

'You,' Dean called, moving towards them 'what year is it?'

'2014, General,' answered one of them.

So this really was the future, and the demon had called him 'General'. Dean puffed up his chest and tried to look as important as he thought a general probably would.

'Do you need an escort, General?' asked the other demon 'it would be our honor to escort you to the palace.'

Dean's mouth drew into a considering frown; he didn't know if he could die here, but it seemed unlikely he was going to be doubted that far now. He just needed to make sure he didn't ask any stupid questions.

They walked about three miles, on pavements that were covered in scorch marks and gouges. A battle had been fought here. There were houses that looked as though they had been smashed from the top down, stores that looked as though something had been driven through the middle. As they walked there were a few others about, but they were all demons. Dean hadn't seen a single human since he'd woken up.

Eventually the demons came to a stop outside a building lined with columns.

'Would you like us to escort you inside, General?' the demon sounded excited about going inside, almost awed. Either they weren't allowed inside here, or it was a rare treat. If that was the case Dean wasn't about to draw attention to himself by dragging them in there.

'No, just wait outside,' he instructed, and headed inside.

The demons had called it a palace, but it had not been used that way by humans. It had been some sort of government building, Dean guessed. Inside it was colder, colder than the walk there had been. The same pillars that stood outside were inside as well, each one slick with a layer of frost.

There was no one in the lobby, but Dean could hear voices beyond the room. He moved through to what seemed to be a hall, leading to further rooms and a staircase. There were a few demons here; they looked like they were supposed to be guarding the area, but they weren't very attentive. It took them far too long to realize Dean's presence.

'General,' one of them exclaimed, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice. 'I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was you...' The guard demons stood looking uncomfortable, as though they were awaiting his instruction. Dean supposed he didn't usually stop to speak with guards.

'Up the stairs, I'm guessing?' Dean asked, eying the one who hadn't spoken. He was almost squirming. Dean smirked a little.

'As always, General,' the demon confirmed.

'I want you to come with me,' Dean told the squirming one, the one who couldn't quite meet his eye. He watched the meat suit swallow hard. He made a noise in his throat as the other demon glared at him.

'But, _H__e_...He doesn't like...' It was almost certainly Lucifer upstairs then.

Dean smiled, the sort of smile he used to offer people who didn't need much persuasion. Receptionists, assistants, note takers, people who were a barrier but didn't care so much about their boss that they wouldn't let a cute, harmless looking guy take a look.

'I know, but I'd really appreciate it.' That seemed to alarm both of the demons. Maybe his future self was bored of the charm game. As for his current self, well, he felt like a spider inviting in a fly for coffee.

The demon stepped forward, nodding his head slightly. He knew he didn't have much choice. No one would probably care if Dean killed him on the spot.

'Lead the way,' Dean said, swinging an arm forward towards the staircase.

The steps were made of solid marble, though someone had laid carpet across them. In the gaps Dean could see that the marble steps were slippery with ice. Seemed the demons were keen to keep their meat suits in good order if they were taking this much care.

There was just a single door at the top. The demon stopped, allowing Dean to enter first.

Dean pushed the door open; every surface was covered with white. The demon he'd brought with him did not follow him in. He had edged back from the door frame, pressing himself to the railing of the stairs.

Letting out a huff of annoyance Dean took a few steps back and shoved the demon over the railing. He hadn't been any fun at all.

'Dean,' a voice called him from inside the room. He knew it of course – it was Sam's voice, though a little different. It was softer, calm.

The room had probably once been quite ornate, but now it simply shone with thin layers of ice laid on top of each other. Apparently Lucifer's fire burned cold. Dean moved towards the voice, drawing towards the only figure in the freezing room.

_Sam_. Dean's gaze moved over his brother's face. _Not Sam_. His expression was wrong, Sam never wore that look.

'You aren't kneeling,' Lucifer said gently.

The idea of kneeling made something crawl in Dean's stomach, but he found himself lowering until his knees were pressed to the floor and his head was bowed in deference. After a moment he felt fingertips brush at the side of his head and tilted his head up to see Lucifer leaned forwards towards him.

'You've been playing with the angel.' Dean looked up at Lucifer, who was still bent forward, brushing his fingers through the hair at his temple. It seemed horribly affectionate. They were familiar enough for this, and yet Dean was still on his knees.

Dean didn't know how to answer – Castiel had said that Dean had been told to get rid of him, but he hadn't. Was he now in trouble with Lucifer? He set his jaw and decided to say nothing.

'Don't you think you've tortured him long enough?' Lucifer asked. Dean noted that there was a smile twitching at his lips. Perhaps he was being teased. 'Don't you think you should show mercy, Dean? My Father abandoned him down here, left him to _your_ hands. If I release him, this lowly angel of yours, am I not becoming closer to the perfection my Father once held?'

Dean was certain a theological debate with Lucifer himself was one he wasn't going to win. He himself didn't care what Lucifer did to the angel – maybe the future Dean had – but this Dean could see that his loyalty should lay firmly here.

'Take him,' Dean said quietly, 'he should have been destroyed at your first instruction.'

Lucifer gave a lopsided smile, as though forgiving, pitying, handing out lessons to be learned. 'Stand, I wanted to speak with you.'

Dean shifted carefully to his feet.

'There are now only a small number of humans remaining,' Lucifer confirmed, moving away from Dean to the edge of the room. He lifted a hand and chipped at the ice on the wall, revealing daylight beneath, a window. 'We must begin now with the lower demons – they burn through their human hosts far too quickly, we cannot sustain them. I have instructed the Generals to begin at once.'

The demon Crowley who had visited earlier had been right – Lucifer was now destroying the demons.

Dean watched Lucifer chipping at the ice on the window, letting real light into the room. 'If you pressed your eye to the window, you could see them now,' he offered, without turning to look at Dean.

'I know what a dead demon looks like,' Dean said off-handedly. He'd killed enough of them. Mostly before becoming one himself.

'I suppose you do,' Lucifer said thoughtfully, turning now to look at Dean. 'Dean, I want you to understand that this is the last time this offer will be made. I want you to know that, truly, if I could have kept you by my side...' he trailed off, then seemed to gather together determination. 'Regardless. The offer is this – to speak with your brother one last time.'

Dean narrowed his eyes a little. Maybe this would have been something to future Dean, but he had seen his brother a short while ago, and he'd been nothing but annoying. Lucifer had put this to him as though it was a big deal though, so he decided that he ought to accept. He nodded.

Lucifer's brow creased with a frown. Dean watched as his expression changed from mild concentration to abject horror. It was Sam's mouth that fell open to a silent scream, Sam's hands that clenched as the cold bit at them.

Dean stepped forward, 'Sam? You okay?' Stupid question. His brother had been locked inside Lucifer for years. Sam stared at him, the same horrified expression twisted on his face. 'Say something, dammit.'

'Y-You!' was what Sam bit out, 'you should have stopped this!' Sam reached behind him then brought a knife from behind his back.

It was too late when Dean realized that it was Ruby's knife – it was buried to the hilt in his chest.

Dean woke up with a jolt. He was blocked by a body as he tried to sit, and made a fist ready to swing at the person above him.

The angel.

The church.

Dean gave a shout of anger and frustration, but the angel was still above him, and he was doing something. He was trying to wedge his hand against Dean's shoulder, right where the hand imprint was. He struggled and tried to kick out, but the angel was strong and pressed his hand over the mark.

Dean's resolve went weak; his muscles would no longer tighten into fists or kicks, and his mind felt quieter than it ever had.

'What have you done?' he asked the angel slowly, forcing out each word on a breath.

'What I'm offering you is peace,' Castiel said 'at the end of it all, you'll be peaceful and at rest. I can make that happen, if you help me.'

It was hard to form thoughts, let alone words. Dean simply looked up at the angel.


End file.
